Disclaimer: Hart Hanson owns Bones, not me.
*MUSIC*
Blank Page by the Smashing Pumpkins
Collide by Howie Day
Drive by Incubus
Feeling A Moment by Feeder
Every Ship Must Sail Away by Blue Merle
"Anthropologists are a connecting link between poets and scientists; though their field-work among primitive peoples has often made them forget the language of science."
Robert Graves.
August 2011
It had been over a month since Brennan's blow-up at Booth regarding the email he had sent rejecting the offer for her to lead the Greece expedition without her knowledge. As she had requested, they hadn't spent more than ten minutes in the same room with each other since.
Brennan had accepted the offer to lead a far less extensive dig in China, and had gone from DC for almost three weeks. She had thought the time away from Booth, no matter how short, would be good for her.
Of course, she hadn't counted on the fact that memories of their failed trip to China a few years back had bombarded her the moment she'd gotten on the plane - all she could think of was how he'd gotten so restless during the flight, as he always had, that he'd snuck into the first class cabin to chat with her several times, and how he'd had that adorable look on his face when he asked her repeatedly if she'd gotten too bored with their work together. She remembered their investigation aboard the plane, and how he'd cheerfully tried to point out the good aspects of their partnership. She thought of the silly banter between them on the flight back, neither of them even touching Chinese land.
Subsequently, these thoughts were followed by much more melancholic ones, her mind wondering unwillingly whether Booth had been as restless on the flight back to DC from Afghanistan, which he'd probably taken with Hannah. Maybe she had been there to distract him, like Brennan once had been.
What stung her the most, asides from Hannah's presence and Booth's feelings for the gorgeous blonde, was the fact that Brennan was now simply one of the women Booth had fallen for in the past. She was simply someone who had the chance of having him in her life forever, but had made the mistake of saying 'no' and was now just…A past love. She was another Rebecca, only while Booth and Rebecca hadn't been truly in love while they were together, Booth and Brennan had been in love but had never truly been together.
She couldn't figure out which was worse.
Her trip to China had, however, given her the clarity she'd needed: she wasn't being herself. She wasn't being the strong Temperance Brennan she had vowed to be the moment her first foster father had laid a hand on her. She had been fifteen years old the first time she had learnt to put away all of her little girl feelings into a steel, impenetrable box and hide it away in the deepest, darkest recesses of her soul. She needed to do the same right now. She needed to remember how to be strong again because crying over a man, even if that man was as good and pure and as one of a kind as Seeley Booth, just wasn't who she was.
She needed to remember how to be herself again. She needed to remember who she was.
So here she was, her first day back in DC, and she was standing over her mother's grave at four thirty in the morning.
Brennan wasn't sure what exactly she was doing at her mother's grave, or what sort of clarity she wished to receive by visiting the cemetery. All she had been doing for the past half hour was stand there, coat bundled up tightly around her, hands in her pockets to keep warm, staring down at the name on the headstone.
Images, moments, spoken and unspoken words alike, floated through her mind at random times, but Brennan never said a word, knowing how useless it would be to try and speak to the dead.
She stood there, and waited.
She could hear someone approaching, and when he was close enough for her to smell the familiar scent, she didn't raise her head to greet him. She didn't know how he knew she was back in town, or that she was at the grave, and she wasn't sure what he wanted. She just didn't want to look up and let him see the disappointment in her eyes that he wasn't the one she wanted to see.
A sigh escaped his lips as he stood next to her, gazing down at the final resting place of the woman they'd both loved. A few moments of silence passed before he spoke.
"You want me to tie him up and burn him?"
Despite the sadness she could still feel, despite how her heart still felt like sharp, tiny fragile pieces of shattered glass swimming around in her chest, Brennan managed a small smile. "No, thanks," she replied idly before turning her head to give her father a quick, thankful glance. Thankful, because even if he wasn't there when she needed a family, he was here now, when she needed an anchor. "I'd miss him too much."
They stood there together in silence for a few more minutes. They never spoke to one another, perhaps a strange sense of camaraderie over lost love hanging in the air between them.
When daylight finally broke, peeking over the edge of the horizon, Brennan exhaled loudly. She turned to leave, not sparing a glance in Max's direction.
Five feet away from Christine's grave, she stopped, turned her head and called out. "Dad?"
Max, still standing in the same spot as before, lifted his head and turned to look at her. "Yeah, sweetheart?"
She didn't even protest at the term of endearment, didn't crinkle her nose or pull a face. Instead, her lips curled into a small, sad smile, the most that she could manage at the moment. "Thanks," was all she said.
Not waiting to hear his reply, because maybe he didn't even have one, and not waiting to see his expression, she turned around again and made her trek back to her car.
She arrived at the Jeffersonian after her three-week long absence at six thirty in the morning, far before anyone had come in. She quickly worked over two sets of remains in Limbo, wanting to get as much done as possible, before giving instructions to her interns so that the rest of the team would know what to do when they came in without consulting her.
She was hidden away in her office, typing away at her desk computer, before any one of her team arrived.
This went on for a long time, days blending together, until Angela decided that enough was enough and went to seek her friend out.
"Bren, sweetie," she heard, but didn't look away from her computer screen. "It's almost lunch time. You want to grab a bite?"
Brennan winced internally.
She might not know most social cues and she might not understand a lot of people, but Angela was different. She had known the beautiful artist since they were both eighteen years old, fresh faced and eager college freshmen at Northwestern. She knew, explicitly, that 'grab a bite', in Angela-speak, meant that she wanted to talk to Brennan about emotions and matters of the heart and have some sort of open talk about whatever feelings she thought Brennan was having.
After all the emotional upheaval she'd gone through in the course of the last few months, and the realization she'd come to in China, Brennan was too emotionally exhausted to go through a heart-to-heart with Angela. It would only be draining to her, and she was sure that it wouldn't resolve anything to revisit it all.
"I'm sorry, Ange, but I've got to finish working on the latest chapter of my book," she informed her friend apologetically, even as she didn't glance up from her work.
Angela sighed once, exasperated at Brennan's behavior. "Bren," she said in a warning tone.
Things had spiraled out of control so quickly. First there was the argument that she'd heard Booth and Brennan had gotten into a month ago, in Brennan's office. Angela herself hadn't been present for it, and neither had Cam, Hodgins or anyone she could remotely count on to give an apt report on said fight. She'd left the moment Booth had entered the room, to give the partners a sense of privacy, but from the rumors going about, she knew the argument had been bad.
Then Brennan had up and left the next day, without giving away anything except for a message on Angela's voicemail telling her that she was on her way to China for three weeks and that she'd see her when she'd get back to DC.
Booth had acted weird the entire time. He'd avoided the Jeffersonian at all costs, even avoided Angela when she'd went to the Hoover to ask what had happened. When they'd gotten a case about a week after Brennan had left DC, he'd shuffled into the Jeffersonian, prim and proper and completely formal. He had been beyond surprised to find that Brennan wasn't at the Jeffersonian, that she'd gone on a dig somewhere. A brief flicker of emotion had passed through his eyes when Cam had informed him of Brennan's three-week-long trip, but it had passed, far too quickly for the others to really notice, then he had been back to being formal.
It was Booth from seven years ago, requesting the assistance from intern-of-the-week, Wendell.
What really cemented Angela's theory that Booth and Brennan had gotten into such a huge fight was the fact that even though Brennan was back in DC, the two partners were still avoiding each other. Booth never came to the Jeffersonian during lunch times and after office hours to check on Brennan anymore - though the artist suspected that a certain blonde journalist had more to do with that than anything else - and the two almost overlapping cases they'd had, Brennan had outright refused to go out into the field with Booth, snapping at her new 'permanent' intern slash assistant, Wendell - who was here to stay until he received his doctorate, much to his relief - to accompany Booth instead.
That was so unlike her, so very uncharacteristic of her, that the first time she'd asked, the whole team had fallen silent for a good twenty seconds before Cam had snapped into action, getting everyone back into work mode.
"You're avoiding talking to me," Angela accused Brennan now.
Brennan finally looked up, her fingers stopping their fast movement across the keyboard, and leveled Angela with an impatient look. "Ange, I'm not avoiding you," she assured her friend. "I just have a lot of work to do."
At Angela's raised eyebrow, she said, "I'm serious. I need to rewrite a few chapters of my latest novel. My publisher's pushing for an earlier release date. I've been getting a lot of inspiration lately so I really want to get to it…I've even requested for a half-day from Cam."
Angela nodded, accepting Brennan's words. "Okay," she relented. "But, you know, Bren, we still need to talk."
"About what?"
Angela gave Brennan an incredulous look. "About what happened between you and Booth, Brennan," she elaborated when her best friend continued to give her a blank stare. "Don't play dumb with me. Something happened. I know it did. I just want to know what, and we'll go from there."
Brennan sighed, shaking her head. She linked her fingers together and stretched her arms out, cracking her bones - her hands were incredibly tired from having typed for hours without stopping.
Angela cringed at the sound, but didn't divert her attention from the anthropologist.
"Angela…" Brennan begun, biting her lower lip as she carefully selected her words. "I know that we talk, a lot, and that we're friends and we're supposed to share…But this is just…It's something I need to keep to myself for a little while."
Seeing that Angela was about to protest, Brennan held up a hand and added, "When I'm ready, I'll tell you. Just not now. Please, Ange."
Angela eyed Brennan for an insurmountable amount of time, considering her words. Finally, noticing the genuine weariness clouding Brennan's eyes, the tired hunch of her shoulders, the determined set of her lips as though she was trying hard not to let it tremble, Angela nodded. "Okay," she conceded softly. "Not now."
Just as she was about to leave, there was a knock on Brennan's door. Brennan's entire body tensed for a fraction of a second before she called out for whomever it was to enter. A flicker of relief passed through her features when Cam poked her head into the office, followed by a sudden wave of disappointment she did her best to tamp down.
"Yes, Cam, how may I help you?"
Cam hid a smile at the anthropologist's formal way of speech. "Dr. Brennan, there's a new body that's just been called in…" she trailed off, unsure what else to say. When Brennan didn't say anything to that, just leaned back in her swivel chair and stared at Cam blankly, she added awkwardly, "FBI business…"
Angela made a face at Cam's horrible attempt at tempting Brennan out of her office.
"Yes, I suspected," Brennan remarked dryly. "I'm sorry, Cam, but I did ask for a half day today," she reminded the woman. "I'm sure Wendell and Clark Edison are more than capable of assisting you and the rest of the team with the retrieval of the remains, as well as with the investigation of a federal case. If not, then I'll be here. Otherwise, I really need to get back to my writing."
Before Cam could reply, however, there was another knock at the door and Wendell appeared in the office. "Dr. Brennan, do you have a minute?" he asked her nervously.
He'd just been informed by Cam mere moments before the pathologist had walked into Brennan's office, that there was a new federal case on their hands. He had worked several of them while Brennan had been away in China, and several more once she'd returned.
While he was usually happy to see Booth, having considered the older man a good friend of his, and was stoked to be getting an opportunity to work cases with the FBI, he wasn't sure he could do it all over again, especially so soon after they'd closed the last one.
All Booth wanted to talk about these days were Dr. Brennan and how she had no right being angry at him for having a girlfriend of his own, how all she ever did was run off to some exotic location somewhere to look at creepy bones, how Booth was tired of all the drama and how he deserved some happiness of his own.
It was non-stop, twenty-four-seven talk of Dr. Brennan this and Dr. Brennan that. And if Wendell ever chimed in to give his own opinion on the matter - no matter if he was defending Brennan or supporting Booth - the agent would instantly clam up and get defensive, as though Wendell had been the one to bring up the subject. Things would get horribly awkward for a few moments, then not two minutes later, Booth would be back to ranting about the anthropologist he called his partner.
Brennan waved him in, silently trying to calm her racing heart. "Yes, Mr. Bray, what is it?" she asked.
Wendell, shuffling his feet in a lame attempt at stalling, blurted out, "I don't think I should go out in the field with Booth anymore."
Brennan blinked at him blankly. "Why not?"
Oh, where to start, Wendell thought sarcastically. Out loud, he stammered, "It's just…I'm just your assistant. You're his partner, and I'm…"
"Are you currently having a disagreement with Agent Booth?" Brennan cut him off, her tone as sharp as her gaze.
"What? No…" Wendell trailed off, taken aback by her sudden line of questioning.
"Are you allergic to him in any way? His scent, his abnormal need for copious amounts of hair gel…The fact that he has brown eyes?"
Wendell, still looking as confused as ever, gaped at his mentor. "Um, no, I'm not," he replied quietly.
"He makes you uncomfortable?" Brennan guessed.
"No."
"Intimidates you?"
Wendell fought the urge to sigh, and hung his head slightly. "No, Dr. Brennan, I do not have any problems whatsoever with Agent Booth," he said, only partially lying. He didn't think, however, that 'Agent Booth keeps talking about you and how unfair this whole situation is with you' was a good answer.
Brennan nodded, as though this was confirmation enough. "Then I see absolutely no reason for you not to go out into the field with him," she said dismissively.
"But I…"
"Mr. Bray," Brennan interrupted him sharply, ice blue eyes freezing him in his tracks. "As much as I find your abilities appealing for the lab, might I remind you that I'm your boss?"
He was smart enough to recognize a warning when it was given. Resigned to his fate, he nodded meekly, "Yes. Dr. Brennan. I'll just…Go get my kit."
"Very well," there was a slight hint of satisfaction, triumph, in her tone that a only fair few could detect.
Cam waited until Wendell was out of the room before she turned on Brennan. "Dr. Brennan," she said, in her businesslike tone. "I think it's time you go back out into the field. After all, you are the one contracted to the FBI, not Wendell."
Brennan shook her head, not at all fazed by Cam's tough exterior. Cam had to admit, that still bothered her some days. "I'm far too busy to work on a case right now," she said in a clipped tone. "Perhaps the next one."
Cam rolled her eyes. Like I haven't heard that one before, she sighed, exasperated. She could understand a broken heart, having gone through several of her own, one or two standing out the most, but this was getting ridiculous. She couldn't really tell the board of directors the reason her anthropologist wouldn't work with their FBI liaison was because she was nursing a broken heart caused by him.
"I think you'll work on this one," Cam insisted.
Brennan lifted her chin defiantly, blue eyes blazing with a fire that almost made Cam step back. "Well, I don't think that at all," she disagreed.
"What if I said you have to?"
"Then I'd say I don't care."
"What if I pulled the 'I'm your boss' card?"
Brennan shrugged, a small smirk at the corners of her lips. "Then I'd be inclined to quit," she retorted.
Cam sighed, rubbing the space between her eyes with the pads of her fingertips. "Dr. Brennan…" she trailed off, unsure where to even begin to persuade her.
"Dr. Saroyan," Brennan interrupted. "I am not here to simply be an anthropologist. I am here to be a teacher. I am here to allow my students to learn to be the best, from the best. Mr. Bray is still my student. I wish him to learn."
Turning her attention away from her boss and her silent, observing best friend, Brennan focused on her computer screen, fingers already clicking away on the keyboard. "Now, if you'll please excuse me, I have work to do."
Both Angela and Cam realized that Brennan was dismissing them. Not a fan of angering Brennan, Cam simply nodded at the brusque dismissal. "Of course, Dr. Brennan," she said immediately. "If you wish to check on the progress of the investigation, we'd be more than happy to oblige."
Brennan simply hummed distractedly, her attention already focused solely on her novel once more.
Sharing a concerned, knowing look, Angela and Cam left the office, closing the door behind them as they left.
Brennan didn't allow herself even a moment to wallow in her emotions, or take a breath from the exhaustion she felt at narrowly dodging what she knew would have been an emotionally draining talk with Angela, or muse over how lonely she felt. She couldn't allow herself such a thing, because as she'd experienced before her trip to China, if she allowed herself to drown, she would have to fight to seek dry land.
For right now, she was all out of strength to fight.
So instead, she jumped straight into her characters' lives, writing at breakneck speed, concentrating on a life that wasn't her own, on fantasy instead of reality.
"Well, I have to say, Temperance, that I was stunned by the shocking turn of events in your book," her editor was saying. Brennan merely hummed as she sat curled up on her living room sofa. "And you're sure this is the last one?"
Brennan shrugged. "I don't see how there could be another book after what happens in this one," she replied flatly.
Her editor laughed, dismissing her words. "Oh, please, this is the world of fiction - anything can happen," she said airily. "But this is a good angle to sell - telling people it's the last one."
"It is the last one," Brennan said, more than a little frustrated with her less-than-rational editor.
"Right, of course," she didn't sound like she believed Brennan at all. "The publishers are good to go. Deja Dead will be out by next Monday. Congratulations. We're all very positive about the outcome."
There was talk about launch parties and a couple of promotional events that Brennan barely paid attention to at all, and finally her editor ended the call with a promise to send an email to her account to give her the details on where she had to be and what for.
Despite the fact that all of that sounded pretty exhausting and needlessly frivolous to her, Brennan hung up the phone with a big smile on her face.
She felt happier somehow, her heart much lighter than it had been for quite some time now. It was as though she had closed a chapter of her life, and she was ready to move on. She was ready to move forward. All she had to do was take the first step.
She wasn't naïve - she knew that it would be a long road ahead. She wasn't stupid enough to believe that her feelings for Booth would magically disappear overnight, but rewriting those last few chapters of her novel, giving it that 'shocking turn of events' in the words of her editor, had been almost a cathartic release for her.
Looking down at herself, and realizing that she was dressed in a pair of sweats that she'd worn for two consecutive days, her hair a mess, she decided the first step would probably involve a shower.
A quick look around the place and wincing at the mess her apartment had become, Brennan decided that a shower could wait until she was done cleaning up her place.
She threw the phone aside and jumped to her feet, making her way quickly to her bathroom to grab cleaning supplies.
Two and a half hours later, Brennan made her way out of her bedroom, freshly showered and changed into a cleaner, neater set of clothes. Grabbing her keys from the counter, she grabbed her purse and headed out - she'd gone so long without really paying attention to her life, or her health for that matter, that the only things that were available in her fridge were takeout containers with expired food in them.
A short drive to her usual organic food store told her that she would have to risk going to the store that was halfway between her apartment and Booth's - the store she usually went to was shut down for renovations.
Cursing and grumbling under her breath, Brennan drove in the direction of the grocery store Booth usually frequented. With flaming red cheeks and a furiously pounding heart, she remembered a time not too long ago when she'd be 'helping' Booth with his groceries - he would be picking the most obscenely unhealthy choices, sometimes exaggeratingly so, she suspected, just to tick her off, and she would be ranting at him about the benefits of her organic food store. It was a domestic chore that they strangely took pleasure in doing together, and afterwards, they'd simply go for lunch or 'hang out' as Booth liked to call it.
A voice oddly reminiscent of Sweet's floated through the forefront of her mind, whispering the words 'surrogate relationship' over and over again.
Shaking herself out of it, Brennan scowled as she parked her car next to a beat up old Beetle. Oh, yes, I'm taking great leaps at moving on from Booth, she thought to herself sarcastically, climbing out of her car and slamming the door angrily.
She was so incensed that she didn't notice the large, black colored FBI-issued truck parked a few rows down from her.
Brennan stepped through the automatic sliding doors, grabbing a trolley near the entrance and pushing the cart to start her shopping. It took her twice as long as it would have in her usual store because she had to check and make sure everything she put in her cart was organic - or, at the very least, healthy.
She was in the cereal aisle, browsing for some healthy wheat cereal, when the unthinkable happened.
She felt her back hit something solid as she walked backwards, scanning the aisles. Immediately, she jumped away. Turning around, she found herself face to face with Seeley Booth. Just like that, her heart broke into a sprint, racing so fast that she felt a little nauseous, her skin heating up.
He was dressed so casually - just a pair of jeans and a Steelers t-shirt - that it brought an ache to her chest. She missed spending time with him, not just as his partner, but as his best friend. She missed that so very much.
She stared at his shirt a little too long, attempting to force the tears away. Thankfully, her years spent in foster care, ostracized by not only her foster families, but her peers, had given her strength and the ability to compartmentalize her emotions when it really counted. She held onto that strength, her eyes completely dry as she finally locked her gaze with those chocolate brown orbs.
"Hi," Booth whispered, looking as shocked as she was to see her there.
She hated the awkwardness.
Forcing a smile onto her lips, and hoping that it didn't look as forced as it felt, she replied, "Hi."
Great conversation, Brennan, she complimented herself sarcastically.
Silence stretched on for a few long moments. Booth spoke just as Brennan was about to grab her cart and excuse herself. "So…You're here," he said, and mentally slapped himself on how lame what he'd thought was a great ice breaker sounded like.
Brennan raised one eyebrow, her face impassive. It reminded him of the earlier months of their partnership, the way she was acting around him. That thought made him more nervous than anything else, including the icy stare she was giving him.
"Yes," was her curt reply. A sudden thought rocked through her, her stomach clenching violently, bile almost rising up her throat. "Are you…I mean, Hannah's…?"
"No, no," he shook his head, understanding her meaning even though her words were broken. "She's got a job interview."
She wasn't sure which was worse - seeing Hannah being domestic with Booth at the supermarket, taking her place so obviously, or knowing that Hannah was definitely staying since she was looking for job right here in DC. She supposed she should be thankful that she didn't have to experience both in one fell swoop.
"Oh, right, okay, sure," she nodded. "That makes sense."
"Yeah." He nodded at the box in her hands. "Wheaties?"
She shrugged. "Healthiest thing I can find here," she gestured at the wide array of cereal boxes, off of which were colorful and boasted the most sugary mixtures possible.
Booth simply grinned, swiping a Count Chocula box near her head. He shook the box at her. "You sure you don't want all this chocolatey goodness?"
A brief, small smile appeared on her lips at his childish behavior. "No, Booth, that's completely unhealthy," she chided.
For a moment, it was like they were back two years ago, back to being 'Booth and Bones'.
Booth chuckled, shrugging, throwing the box into his own cart. "Suit yourself," he teased. "But don't come running to me when your Wheaties don't taste as yummy as my Count Chocula."
Brennan rolled her eyes, prompting a small laugh from Booth.
Silence fell upon them once more, easy smiles turning into awkward glances and shuffling feet.
"Well…" Brennan said, at the exact same time Booth spoke up.
"I…I didn't know you'd be here," he said, wincing slightly as his words came out.
Brennan gave him a confused look. "Of course you didn't," she said matter-of-factly. "I don't have a fixed schedule on grocery shopping, and you aren't psychic."
"No. No, I meant…You don't usually shop here."
Her eyes hardened completely, mask falling into place. "Well, I certainly didn't come here in some horrendous attempt to bump into you!" she crossed her arms over her chest, defensive.
"I didn't-"
"I didn't even know you'd be here, Booth," she interrupted, not allowing him to speak and defend his own misinterpreted, awkwardly spoken words.
"I know th-"
"What, you think I'm stalking you or something!" she glared heavily at him. "God, the ego on you!"
"Hey, I didn't say that at a-"
"My organic food store is undergoing some sort of renovation, and I needed groceries," she huffed. "What, is that a crime now?"
He threw up his hands in the air, frustrated. "No, okay!" he shook his head, frowning. "Jeez. I didn't mean it like that, Bones."
She blinked at him, unsure if she believed him entirely. "Oh."
"I just…I haven't seen you," he cleared his throat. "I haven't…We haven't really…Spoken for some time now."
Refusing to acknowledge what she knew he meant, she tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. "We spoke on Friday," she reminded him in a tone that suggested she thought he wasn't particularly bright. "Remember?"
He gave her an exasperated look, "Saying 'good night' to each other while Hurricane Brennan flew out of the lab past the rest of us isn't 'speaking', Bones."
She shook her head. "I don't-"
"Look, can we just…" he interrupted her, sighing at the end, hanging his head. "I don't want to fight anymore. Okay? I just…Can we please…"
Booth wasn't sure how he should phrase his question. What was he supposed to ask her? 'Please don't be heartbroken anymore'? That wasn't right. He wished more than anything he could take her pain away, but he had some pain, too. Pain that he thought was long gone.
All he wanted was for them to be them again, but he just didn't know how to ask that of her.
"Let's go to the diner," he suggested suddenly, an idea sparking in his mind. "Let's sit, have lunch…Just…Hang out."
Despite the fact that that was what she'd missed doing, and despite the fact that her heart skipped a beat at his invitation, Brennan was less than willing. "Booth, I just…I have a lot to do today," she lied, trying to pull away.
"Bones," his voice was soft and his tone was low and his eyes were searching, desperate, pleading. "Please."
She sighed, looking away, her eyes squeezed shut. "Fine," she relented, wanting to cry because she knew she could never say no to him. Not now, with her heart all messed up and her emotions all tangled. "Diner."
He smiled, the sight of that happy grin making her pain ebb slightly for the moment, this smile, this one smile, she could claim as her own.
Booth had three different types of ice cream melting away in his cart and she wasn't done with her shopping yet, so they agreed to meet at the diner in an hour for lunch. They waved goodbye, their carts going in opposite directions.
Her heart was still pounding too fast twenty minutes later as she paid for her things.
She drove back to her apartment, putting away the groceries at an alternating speed. One minute, she would move as fast as she could, not wanting to be late to meet Booth. The next, Hannah would pop into her mind and her hands and legs would slow. The last time she had been to the diner had been that day when Booth had told her about Hannah, about being in love. She hadn't been back since. Just that thought alone made her want to cancel. Or, at the very least, find someone eligible to make her forget for a few minutes before she had to meet him.
In the end, she did neither.
She looked into the mirror in her hallway to make sure she didn't look too sloppy, and made sure she still smelled nice, and went out to head to the diner.
Booth was already waiting for her in their usual booth. That was both a welcomed gesture, a reminder of their years of partnership, of friendship, of possibilities, and a horrible flashback to their meeting after a year apart.
Nevertheless, she slipped into her usual seat opposite him.
Booth had been a nervous wreck as he waited for Brennan to show at the diner. His apartment had been empty when he'd arrived back after his trip to the store. Parker was back at his mother's and Hannah still wasn't back from her interview, which he was glad for. His insides had been rolling around unsettlingly in his stomach and he didn't think he could explain to his girlfriend why exactly he was so pale and shaking.
He hadn't really seen Brennan since their fight outside in the gardens at the Jeffersonian. She had stormed off, and he'd sat there on that bench, crying without even realizing it. He'd avoided going there, or calling her, and even dodged her stubborn best friend when she came knocking at the Hoover.
When a case file landed on his desk, he had been more than shocked to discover she had left the country. A moment of panic passed through him - what if she'd somehow managed to get the museum people to let her go on that dig? Was she really gone for two years? Then Cam had inadvertently soothed his fears, mentioning that she'd be back by three weeks.
Even when she had returned, he had gone with Wendell to crime scenes. Wendell was normal enough, 'friend' enough, that he had allowed himself the very rare opportunity to ramble out loud in his car while he was present. He hadn't necessarily wanted Wendell's opinion, but at least he wasn't talking to himself.
All he'd planned on doing when he'd picked up his car keys that morning was buy some groceries - he'd forgotten what it was like to have someone else living with him. Hannah didn't exactly eat some of the things his son did, and the rest of the things in his fridge was mostly enough just for Booth himself.
It had struck him, when he'd slipped the key into the ignition, that over a year ago, Brennan would show up at his place unexpected on a Saturday morning, her arms loaded with a bag of groceries she ranted about him not having - vegetables, tofu, that horrible beer that only she liked. For a week after that, his fridge would have his things and hers, enough to keep them both happy whenever she came over to do paperwork or watch movies or play cards or get drunk. Then another Sunday would come and she'd do it all over again.
He'd loved that system. It was a good system.
Now everything had changed and some moments, moments like when he was standing at the cereal aisle, lost in memory of her shaking her head, hands on her hips, lecturing him about healthy food choices while he chucked three different kinds of Poptarts into his cart before he made some sort of a joke and she'd laugh, he'd place his arm around her shoulders and grinned while she tried to strike a deal to make him mac and cheese if he promised to buy whole wheat bread…Those were the moments he wondered if change was a good thing at all.
But he'd seen her at the store, and the first thought to cross his mind was 'she's beautiful'. His heart had clenched so painfully at the thought of missing another chance to rectify things with her, so he'd asked her to go to the diner with him, have lunch with him. All the way back to his apartment, he couldn't decide if that had been a smart move or a stupid one.
The moment he sat down in the diner, Della appeared by his table. "Just for one today, hon?" she asked him, notebook still in her pocket - she didn't need to write down his orders, having been so familiarized with it already.
Booth shook his head. Of course Della would assume it would be just him. Asides from that first time, when he'd introduced Hannah to Brennan, he hadn't brought her back there. They'd opted for a café right around the block from his apartment if they wanted to eat out. The diner, he felt, was too…Crowded with people he worked with. Not only would they run the risk of seeing Brennan there, they'd run the risk of meeting the rest of the squints. He didn't find that idea appealing at all.
"No, two," he said, and Della's expression seemed almost reproachful. "Bones will be here in a minute."
Della smiled brightly then. "Oh!" she chirped. "Okay, then. I'll just go get your coffee."
Booth nodded. "Thanks, Della," he said distractedly, eyes already scanning the outside through the glass wall, flicking to the door just in case he'd missed her approach.
She arrived just a few minutes after him, looking just as flawless as she had back at the supermarket, her eyes looking just as sad. She smiled at him as she sat down, but remained silent as she shrugged off her coat and draped it over the back of her chair, Della placing a cup of steaming hot coffee in front of her.
"So…" Booth said lamely once Della had left, promising their food would arrive soon.
She blinked once. "So," she repeated flatly.
For the first time since he could remember, he lowered his gaze when she fixed her steely eyes on him. They sat in silence, picking at their food when Della brought it over, shaking her head and muttering under her breath as she walked away.
"Look, Bones," he sighed, when he thought he would suffocate with all the thick, tension-filled silence surrounding them. "I just…I want us to be us again."
There. He'd said it.
Brennan raised her head from the salad she had been intently staring at for the past fifteen minutes. She blinked at him, "I don't know what that means."
Despite their situation, their tense, awkward situation, a smile tugged at his lips involuntarily, growing until he was smiling so hard he might as well be laughing. "God, I've missed hearing that," he admitted.
She smiled, too, for a moment but she remembered their predicament faster than he did and her smile slipped once more.
"That," he said, gesturing towards her frown. "That's what I mean. Bones, I want us to be partners again. I don't want us to be…Like this. It's just, it's making me, I just can't do it," he stuttered, unable to really find the words to express how damn uncomfortable it was for him not to have her in his life. How painful it was.
Brennan let out a breath of air from between her lips. "It's not that simple, Booth," she said finally.
"Why not?" he argued. "I want my best friend back, Bones," he pleaded in a softer tone.
Brennan turned her head away, looking out of the glass wall so that Booth wouldn't see her own eyes - she knew they would match his, soft and exposed, and she knew she had tears in them. "I want that, too," she admitted quietly once the tears were gone from her eyes, turning back to look at him.
He nodded. "So…So can't we just try?" he asked her, his tone almost desperate.
"Try?" she repeated, her expression blank.
"Try," he said firmly. "Can't we be us again?"
She tilted her head to the side. "Try to be partners again," she clarified, because she was sure that was what he meant.
He nodded, "Yeah, partners." That was one of the most important role he had - being Temperance Brennan's partner. He would fight tooth and nail for it and he didn't think he'd ever give it up willingly. "And friends."
Brennan stared at him for a long moment. Hadn't it just been this morning when she'd admitted to herself that she missed his friendship, his presence? So maybe she was still a little heartbroken by him, and maybe the thought of seeing him with his love, hearing about how happy she made him, made Brennan feel sick to her stomach…But that didn't change the fact that she simply missed him.
Taking a deep breath, she braved her way through her reply. "We can try," she offered, letting him know without words that she wasn't promising anything.
But it was enough for him, and he grinned at her widely, not all of it genuine, if only to cheer them both up. "Great!" he said animatedly.
They began to eat, slow sentences forming in between bites, an attempt to get back to where they were, without really being back to where they were.
Small talk about a desk jockey at the FBI who somehow managed to cause a blackout for the entire building on his first week turned into an entertaining tale on Parker's latest soccer game. It was easy to forget, when it was just the two of them there, that there wasn't anything standing in the way. It was easy to convince themselves that they were still making their way towards eventually when they were laughing it up, drinking cup after cup of coffee long after their lunch was finished.
The sky actually began to dim outside, showing the beginning of the end of the day, before Brennan gave a start. "Oh, wow," she murmured. "It's…Past five already. I didn't even realize."
He hadn't, either, but he didn't say a word, just gazed at her with a happy smile on his lips. He was about to suggest they just stayed at the diner and have dinner since they still had so much to catch up on - technically, they'd been apart for longer than just a few weeks. They never really got to talk much after their year apart, and he had forgotten just how much he loved spending time with her. He remembered he loved it, he'd just forgotten how much she affected him - her radiant smile, her husky laugh, her almost obsessive need to give an anthropological standpoint on every single thing they talked about.
But just as he opened his mouth to speak, his cell phone rang. A look at the caller ID told him it was Hannah.
Brennan must've seen something in his face because she nodded her head, realization flooding her eyes. "Hannah?" she guessed correctly.
He nodded, ending the call and sending it to voicemail. "You know, I don't have to…We could just stay here," he offered, though his offer was significantly less inviting than it could've been if he'd asked before the call.
Brennan gave him a smile. "No, Booth, you should go home," she said lightly, throwing some money on the table for her coffee and standing up. He copied her actions, watching as she pulled on her coat. "I should head home, too."
He followed her out the door, not unlike a lost puppy. "But…Us," he stammered incoherently. "We'll still…Are we…?"
Brennan laughed a little, though the sound was nervous and without humor. "I'll see you tomorrow, partner," she said reassuringly.
His smile was blinding, and it made her heart ache in the most painful way. She turned away, wondering why it was that she had the ability to control the urge to cry nearly twenty years ago when her parents disappeared but she couldn't muster the same strength now.
She was about to walk away, but Booth reached out, snagging her wrist. She halted immediately, turning around as his warm hand closed around her slim wrist. She gave him a questioning look, a frown on her lips.
"Booth?"
He stood there, his fingers still clasped around her wrist, his mouth opening and closing as he tried to find the right words. Despite the fact that she had told him she'd see him the next day, and despite the fact that they had just spent hours sitting at their usual table at the diner, talking and laughing and smiling together like old times…It all felt unfinished to him.
Something bubbled in his stomach, formed a lump in his throat, boiled on his tongue, as though there was something he wanted to say to her, something he needed to say, but his mind just couldn't process it and he was left speechless, just staring into her pretty eyes, wondering how they'd let things turn out the way they did.
But she knew him better than she'd ever known herself, which was probably why she knew he was in love with her before she'd ever known she was in love with him, too.
So as he stood there, gaping at her like a fish out of water, she sighed. Her head dropped for a moment, her eyes fixed on the granite beneath their feet. Then she lifted her head, blue eyes finding his own warm brown ones, and she uttered the words he needed to say but couldn't find.
"I miss you."
They were spoken so softly, so tenderly, that it broke his heart just a little.
Brown eyes swimming with emotion, Booth pulled her close, wrapping her up in a tight hug. She felt so familiar to him, yet so foreign and none of it made any sense except the way she wrapped her arms around his torso and rested her cheek against his beating heart.
She closed her eyes, breathing in the masculine scent of him that she'd missed so damn much. Booth stayed there in her embrace for as long as he could, his eyes squeezed shut as well, resting his cheek on the top of her head. Ducking his head, he pressed a kiss to her hair.
"I miss you, too."
Brennan turned her head, burying her nose into his shirt, fighting her hardest to swallow back a sob. It was a constant battle these days, to keep reminding herself that she wasn't the kind of woman to burst into tears at the drop of a hat, or over a man.
She took in a few more deep breaths, filling her lungs with his scent, before pulling away. He wanted her to just stay with him, but he couldn't say that. He wasn't able to say that before and he definitely couldn't say that now, when everything had changed so much.
Instead, his warm hands cupped her cheek.
The concern in his eyes were like sharp glass shards stabbing her all over. She didn't want his pity and it was humiliating to think that he was the happy, moved on one, worried about her mental health, the stuck, heartbroken one.
"I'll be okay, Booth," she assured him. He didn't look convinced but she wasn't going to allow either of them to dwell on whether or not she was just fine. "And you were right," she continued, causing him to raise his eyebrows, confused. "I had no right to be mad at you. I was just hurt."
He shook his head, his eyes squeezed close for a moment before he opened them. She saw him open his mouth, but she wasn't interested in hearing him apologize for moving on, or to say he was sorry she loved him. It would be too much.
She interrupted him before he could speak, "Look, if you could move on, I can too, right?"
Booth's mouth snapped shut and he simply stared at her for a moment. There was an emotion in his eyes that was indiscernible to her. He shifted his weight uncomfortably from one foot to another and back again. "Uh, right," he muttered.
She nodded, taking his half-hearted words as whole-hearted confirmation. "I'll be just fine," she attempted a smile.
He finally released her, his hands going into his pockets like a lost schoolboy, and she nodded once before turning to walk away.
She took three steps away from him before she stopped, turning back around with a furiously pounding heart. "And Booth," she added, causing him to look up at her once more. "For what it's worth…I'm glad you're happy."
That same indiscernible look was back in his eyes, but he merely nodded. "Thanks, Bones," he said quietly.
He stood there, on the middle of the sidewalk, and watched as she walked further and further away from him.
Déjà Dead had been out for a week, and the response had been explosive. None of her friends had said anything about the book other than they had enjoyed it and that even though they didn't see the twist coming, they thought it was written well. She'd accepted their compliments, just as she accepted praise from her publishers and praise from reviewers.
The only thing that annoyed her was that, with publishing a book, especially one that was in a popular series like hers was, came a whole slew of publicity she needed to endure: book signings and the launch party and appearances on TV talk shows… The reason she'd written the book - or, at least, rewritten the last few chapters of it - was so she could pen down her emotions, morph it into something that would fit the fictional lives of her fictional characters, and move on.
She didn't want to dwell on Kathy and Andy, but publishing the book had made it difficult not to.
Oh, the irony.
A week had passed and her interns were still looking at her as though she was a specimen in a jar, and Angela still looked as though she was about to corner her in her office, lock the door and make them have a heart to heart while they're intoxicated on truth serum.
The only thing she had to be thankful for was that even though she was now 'partners and friends again' with Booth, she hadn't really seen much of him in the past week.
They hadn't had a case, though he'd stopped by once the very next day after their lunch, and once more right before her launch party. That particular visit had been a little awkward because before, he would be the one to accompany her to launch parties, to keep her entertained when she was ready to fall asleep standing up with witty jokes she didn't understand but laughed at anyway and cracks at 'stuffy rich people' he disliked.
Now, as half her team were gathered around an examination table, Wendell and two of her interns - Daisy and Mr. Nigel-Murray - present as well as Angela who was sketching on a stool nearby, a body from Limbo spread out before them, a learning experience, Booth stormed into the lab.
He had just now finished reading Déjà Dead, literally twenty minutes ago. He had gotten the book pre-ordered, just like he had every single book she'd published before. Even that first one, which she'd published after their first case together but before they were partners. But he wasn't the world's fastest reader and it had taken him an entire week to read it, and he had been shocked as hell.
Sure, there had been rumors that this would be the last Kathy and Andy novel, but he hadn't believed it. It was printed in newspapers and gossip rags and he even caught a headline in a gossip website once…He saw a statement released by her editor on her website, but he didn't believe that either. How could he when he knew she didn't even know she had a website? For all he knew, these people were all lying.
He wouldn't believe it unless it came out of her mouth, unless she told him. And she would, too, because the last Kathy and Andy book would be something epic. It would be the end of an era. It was big and she'd tell him. It wasn't like they spoke to each other several times every day like they did before, but they'd still seen each other twice in the past week, and they'd talked for hours at the diner before that.
She would've told him, he'd convinced himself, except that she didn't tell him and now he had finished reading the last Kathy and Andy book that would ever be published and he was shocked enough to get the hell out of his office and drive over to the Jeffersonian.
He stormed into the lab, his eyes immediately zeroing on Brennan's unmistakable auburn curls. He made his way towards the platform, just barely swiping his card as he ran up the steps. The others on the platform noticed him coming, though Brennan just kept her head down, keeping up an endless spiel as she addressed her students.
He absolutely hated that she wasn't the first one to notice him - just a little over a year ago, she would be the one to sense his presence before anyone had even caught sight of him. She'd deny it 'til her dying day, but he'd noticed the way she would straighten her posture and look up from whatever she was doing the moment he was in proximity, even if her back was to him. He recognized that sixth sense because he was the same way with her.
But he was far too stunned to really focus on all of this. Instead, he simply stood there on the platform, gaping at her like an idiot, hating the sympathy on everyone else's faces because they were super smart people with super fast reading abilities and had come to the conclusion of the last Kathy and Andy book way before he did. They knew why he was there.
"You killed me!" he blurted out to Brennan.
She didn't look up from the skull she was bent so close to, didn't jump as though she'd known he was standing there the whole time, and definitely didn't react to what he'd just said. Instead, she simply murmured calmly, "I highly doubt that, Booth. If I'd killed you, you wouldn't be standing there interrupting me at work."
He shook his head, intent on hashing this out now. He had no idea where this was coming from - he was normally a much more private person than this. She gets under my skin, he thought to himself. She gets under my skin like no one else can. I forgot about that, too. "No, no, no," he said. "You killed me. You stuck me in a car that freakin' exploded!"
Finally, Brennan straightened up. She turned her icy blue eyes on him, quirking an eyebrow at his words. "Are you talking about the death of Agent Andy Lister in the book?"
"First of all - Special Agent," he corrected her, causing her to roll her eyes. "And secondly…Yeah! That's what I'm talking about! What the hell was that all about, Bones!"
She rolled her eyes again, doing the perfect imitation of a thirteen year old. "Oh, my God, Booth. Would you get over that?" she said dismissively. "First and foremost, Andy Lister is a fictional character. I had the inspiration to write the story loosely based on our first case together, but you are not the inspiration or model for Andy. He's much less irritating than you are."
He narrowed his eyes in her direction. "Yeah, uh-huh," he said disbelievingly. "You killed me!" he repeated incredulously.
Brennan tilted her head back, a look of frustration on her face. Exhaling loudly, she glared at Booth. "Say it with me, Booth," she said in a condescending tone. "You are not Andy Lister. You are Seeley Booth. I 'killed' Andy, in a fictional world where people bleed ink. I didn't kill Booth. You are still alive."
When Booth merely glared at her, she repeated, "Get over it."
Angela stepped in, deciding that this would be a good time as any to do just that. She had been waiting to speak with Brennan - to have an honest, open talk which she knew Brennan needed because as brilliant as the woman was, she needed help when it came to the matters of the heart - ever since her return from China.
She knew Brennan had avoided talking to her, and Angela had given her that because sometimes all you needed was some space to gain some strength back after a broken heart. Personally, that had never been Angela's style. She was a 'go to best friend Bren and have a good wallow, grieve, then have lots of one night stands' type of person, but she also knew that 'space' was more Brennan's style.
But then, all of a sudden, Booth was strolling into the Jeffersonian, without a case, smiling and having small talk with Brennan. It wasn't what they were, but it was a small step, and Brennan had avoided talking about that, too.
Then Déjà Dead came out and Angela understood why.
"Regardless of whether or not Booth is Andy-"
Brennan interrupted Angela with a vehement, "He's not."
Angela nodded once to show that she'd acknowledged her - arguing about how Booth was Andy wasn't a priority at the moment. "I've got to wonder, though, sweetie…" Angela said delicately. "Why'd you kill off the hunky FBI stud?"
Daisy, previously just a silent intern in the background (an unusual thing for her), spoke up. "Are we still talking about Andy?" she asked to no one in particular.
Brennan shrugged, ignoring Daisy's question. "I felt it was time," was her vague reply.
"It was time!" Booth repeated, his tone incredulous. "What sort of an answer is that! He's the main character, Bones!"
"No, he's the partner of the main character," she corrected him as though he was one of her students who had given her the wrong answer. "The books are about Kathy, Booth."
"No," he disagreed immediately. "They're about Kathy and her partnership with Andy." Shaking his head, he threw his hands up in frustration. "Seriously, Bones. Did you lose your mind or something?"
Typical of her, Brennan took the question seriously. "No, my mind is fully intact," she answered matter-of-factly. At Booth's accusing glare, she relented slightly, sighing. "Look, I thought it was a necessary move. Kathy and Andy couldn't stay partners forever."
"What? What not?" he sounded defensive.
She gave him a look that suggested the answer was such an obvious thing, he was slow for not understanding. "Because, Booth," her tone was exasperated. "They're at a stalemate. Over time, they grew to become not just work partners, but they ingrained themselves subconsciously into each other's lives until they were permanent fixtures."
And, just like that, they weren't talking about Kathy and Andy anymore.
"But neither would take the step forward and neither would back down from what they had, whether they admit to it or not," she continued, her voice growing less steely and softening as their gazes locked. "I can't keep writing Kathy and Andy books where they're solving crimes and having meaningless sex all the time."
"Why not?" his voice was equally soft, his eyes unblinking as he moved closer to her. The others on the platform were entirely silent as they watched the exchange. "It sounds like a good life to me."
She felt a small smile slip onto her lips. "No, it doesn't," she countered softly, and though he didn't admit it out loud, she saw the truth in his eyes.
He gave a small shake of his head. "Kathy and Andy…They…They're special," he insisted. "Nothing between them could be meaningless."
She shrugged. "Maybe not," she could concede to at least that. "But it's not enough. And at some point, it needs to stop."
Doing something she had never done before, she took a step back from him. "I choose it to stop now," she added quietly.
He stared at her for a long moment, emotions passing through his handsome features at breakneck speed. Finally, he swallowed, and took a step backwards of his own. She nodded, as though he'd given her some sort of a signal, some sort of a sign.
"You could've just…Given them a happy ending, Bones," he insisted, his voice louder now, back to pretending that they were just talking about Kathy and Andy. Nothing more. "Even if you did get bored writing about Kathy and Andy."
She shook her head. "No, I don't see that happening," she said, and not one person in a room full of geniuses mentioned the present tense in her sentence.
"So you killed me - him - off instead?" he demanded. "That was your brilliant solution."
She didn't comment on his slip up, choosing to ignore it instead. "Yes," she replied curtly.
"Bones!"
"Look," she said firmly, interrupting what looked to be yet another burgeoning rant from him. "The way I see it, watching Andy leave her was…Monumental for Kathy. It jolted her out of whatever fantasy she'd been living in all these years. And when she buried him-"
He couldn't help himself - he had to interrupt her. "Buried him?" he scoffed, crossing his arms across his muscular chest. "You put him in a car explosion, Bones! There was no body to bury!"
Brennan ignored this, continuing on as though he hadn't spoken at all, "When she buried him, she came to a very difficult crossroads. She could either continue wishing for something that is…Impossible, or she could move on. Kathy realizes that it's the hardest thing she's ever had to do, the most painful thing, but she turned and walked away, saying goodbye to Andy. She knows that she and Andy would never be together now. Even if she didn't believe in a higher power or in Heaven, at least she knows that Andy was no longer in pain like he would be if he'd made it out alive…He had moved on and she had to, as well. Andy was gone from her life forever and as painful as it was, she had to try and move on."
Brennan stopped, taking in a deep breath as though she had forgotten to breathe while she'd spoken. Looking up, she realized that everyone on the platform had gone completely silent, staring at her with wide eyes. Hiding her blush expertly, she finished with, "And that is why I killed Andy."
No one knew what to say, so Angela broke the heavy silence by muttering, "Pretty heavy stuff, Bren."
Booth huffed, obviously still unhappy about the ending of the book and, ultimately, the ending of the series. "Well, it was stupid," he retaliated childishly. "No one's going to buy this."
To his utter irritation, Brennan piped up cheerfully (as cheerful as Temperance Brennan could get, anyway) with, "Actually, although my editor and my publisher were shocked, they seemed to think this was a great idea. And my book agent told me that my decision to kill Andy had garnered a very strong reaction from fans. Some went with what I decided without a problem, and some argued about it…But she said that even if they reacted negatively, the fact that they apparently cared enough to be having these 'fan debates' or whatever means that they are all still highly invested in the series."
Angela nodded at Brennan's words. "No publicity's bad publicity," she sang out the cliché.
Brennan blinked at her. "Yeah, I don't know what that means," she drawled. "But book sales skyrocketed."
Booth, still unrelenting, pushed forward. "Everyone knows Kathy and Andy were meant to be together, Bones," he pressed. "You can't just go killing him off."
Their eyes connected again, and once again, it was as though the whole world disappeared and there wasn't a discussion about Kathy and Andy, but a discussion on the possibility of the two of them being killed off in a fiction book meant for all the world to read.
Their moment was broken when an unfamiliar voice called out, "Temperance!"
Jolted out of their silent conversation, Booth and Brennan both turned towards the source of the voice, startled. Booth frowned as he noticed a man standing below the platform, smiling too wide for his liking and waving at Brennan with a little too much enthusiasm than he cared for.
Brennan, however, seemed to have absolutely no problems whatsoever with this strange man no one had ever seen before smiling and waving and calling her by her first name. In fact, she smiled right back, holding up her index finger to signal for him to give her another minute. He nodded, moving away slightly from the platform.
Brennan turned back to face Booth, who had a confusing mix of emotions rolling about in nauseating waves in his stomach.
"No one can wait forever for eventually to come around, Booth," she said, startling him at her use of his own words from years ago. "Sometimes, you've got to move on."
You did, were the words she didn't say out loud but he heard all the same. Maybe it's time I did, too.
They remained eye contact for a few more seconds before Brennan broke it. She turned towards the others, who immediately turned their gaze away, pretending that they hadn't been watching the entire exchange with morbid interest.
"I've fully pieced together the skull, Angela," she announced unnecessarily. "See if you can get a successful facial reconstruction from that."
Angela nodded, giving Brennan a small smile. "Sure, sweetie," she replied softly, unable to help her gaze from flickering to Booth for a brief moment.
Brennan turned towards her interns, "The rest of you, I'd like you to work on this set of remains - put together your own individual data, record your findings and I'll review them when I return."
"Yes, Dr. Brennan."
"Of course, Dr. Brennan."
Brennan moved away from the examination table and from Booth. She snapped off her latex gloves, speaking to no one in particular as she threw the discarded gloves into the bin by the railing, "Please inform Cam that I've gone for an early lunch."
Without a glance backwards at Booth, Brennan moved towards the stairs, descending them quickly.
Booth stared at the empty space Brennan had been standing at just moments ago for a long time after she'd gone. He turned his head around, just in time to catch Brennan greeting the mystery man with a large smile and a kiss on the cheek.
He watched as the man said something, something Booth was too far to hear and seeing too many red splotches in his vision to lip read, and Brennan grinned even wider, throwing her head back and laughed.
His stomach grew even more unsettled as he watched him offer her his arm - his arm, like they were in some 19th century movie - and she took it, still smiling like it was the best thing anyone's ever done for her.
"Jealous, sweetie?" Angela's voice in his ear made him jump though he didn't look away from Brennan and her…Companion.
Only because I don't want to see that smug look I know she's wearing right now, he convinced himself. "No," he replied, maybe a little harsher than he'd intended. Softening his tone, he added, "I'm not. I just…I didn't know she was seeing anyone."
Angela sighed a little dreamily. "Yeah," she murmured. "She met him at her book's launch party. He's the first guy Brennan's been with for a long time that wasn't just for sex, you know?"
He flinched and turned his head slightly to shoot her a brief glare. "Do you really need to say that? Out loud? To people?" he asked.
Angela smirked, but didn't answer his question. Instead she turned back to look at Brennan and her date. "He's dreamy, no?" was all she said before she left him standing there by himself.
He turned to look at his partner again, jaw clenching as he realized that Brennan and her date were now kissing passionately right there in the middle of the lab. Booth wrapped his fingers around the railing, his arms stretched on either side of him, and rested his weight against it.
As he watched on, Brennan and her date broke apart, both of them smiling widely at each other. Arm in arm, they walked away from the spot they'd just been making out in and headed towards the lab's exit.
I'm not jealous, he scoffed, remembering Angela's accusation. I'm just protective. She's a grown woman. I'm a grown man. We've both moved on, apparently. I'm good.
He spent the rest of the day trying his hardest to convince himself that the only reason he felt like someone had run him over with a truck was because he hated the ending to the Kathy and Andy series.
"Some of us think holding on makes us strong; but sometimes it is letting go."
Hermann Hesse.